Never
by Clouded-Days
Summary: Alone as usual, Ryou struggles to make the evening of his birthday tolerable. And for a while, he's happy that Bakura actually comes home, but as he realizes the man has completely forgotten him once more, things quickly spiral downward... COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Yeah, this is going to be a twoshot for Ryou's birthday (and I guess Bakura's too since we don't exactly know his date of birth, so...) Anyway, happy birthday Ryou, and I hope you guys enjoy, even though it's short! **Note: **This chapter is told from Ryou's POV.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh.

* * *

I sigh softly, cupping my face into the palms of my hands. I stare blankly at the cake before me, the thick frosting pierced by candles that I have yet to light. The cake has been sitting there for nearly an hour, untouched. All I've done so far is stare at it, not even bothering to fetch a knife to cut it.

I don't have an appetite, and I'm alone in the house, so why bother?

I moan as I lower my head onto my folded arms, which are draped across the tabletop as I continue to stare at the cake I made. Typically I'm accustomed to be alone, but being totally isolated on my birthday, of all things…

It's times like these that the loneliness actually eats away at me.

I sigh as I push my chair back from the table. I can't stand to look at the beautiful white cake I prepared for myself anymore, for the sight of it was making me feel even worse.

Instead I pad into the living room, which is dead silent. I crash into a corner of the black leather furniture, curling up in a ball with my knees to my chest and my chin lowered onto my kneecaps. I stare blankly down at the pale tan carpet beneath my toes, my mind and body aching, and I know I'm longing for company.

But I know it won't come.

I close my eyes in an attempt to keep the sudden tears held in. After so many years of being by myself, I think it would've grown on me by now. But I'm not used to it. It still hurts, deep down, but I hide the pain so well no one suspects anything is wrong with me…

…Besides Bakura, anyway.

I chuckle darkly to myself; Bakura was never around. He spends his days sleeping, and by nightfall he's out at places I have no information of. And the next day at noon he drags himself back home, demanding that I make him lunch. And after he eats he vanishes up the stairs as he goes to bed.

Not only does he always leave me behind, but we aren't really connected. We never really communicate, if at all, really. He only speaks to make demands or to twist his words out into insults. We never have any 'real' conversations…or any at all, actually. Sure, I tried. I would greet him every day, smiling, asking him how his day was, and every time, the reply was the same. He merely ignored me, or whirled on his heel to tell me to shut up, that he didn't want to hear it.

So eventually I just stopped trying altogether.

It hurt, so terribly much… Every time it was the same. Not only that, but I spent every holiday alone. Dad calls on Christmas, and so does Malik, but sitting in the empty apartment all alone for days nearly throws me into insanity.

And I hate my birthdays the most. The fact that I never get gifts anymore doesn't bother me at all. I don't mind that. It's the face that I'm even more alone that usual. Dad never remembers my birthday anymore, so he never calls me. Malik even forgets, sometimes. And Bakura… He stays out for days and days at a time, never bothering to call me to let me know he's okay or where he is, spending an entire week away from me. And I spend the day I was born making myself a cake that I don't even eat, sitting alone in silence, deep down hoping that Bakura would show his face, but he never does.

I know deep down I'm dying. Malik told me once that I'm rotting from lack of love, that I need to find more friends, and that I need to get Bakura closer to me…

Easy for him to say. I'd like to see him in my shoes. He's never alone. He's always next to his family, _and _his yami. Marik isn't exactly mentally stable, but he gets along with Malik somewhat… And that's sure better than the nothing I have.

Suddenly tears push their way out of my eyes and begin to travel down my face, and I choke, a weak cry spilling from my lips. I proceed to bury my face into the safe haven of my knees, sobbing.

I just can't hold in the tears anymore. It hurts so _much. _I just sit there, sobbing into my knees, my entire body shaking uncontrollably, tears bursting from my eyes, and I can't control them.

Suddenly there's a bang, and my head shoots up, my vision bleary and unfocused, tears cascading down my face. My gaze settles on the doorway as I notice the front door is wide open, pushed forcefully into the wall. I swallow, seeing a large shadow spilling onto the carpet.

The doors slams shut loudly, and a voice snarls from across the room, coming from the doorway, "What's your problem, runt?"

My heart flutters slightly in my chest as I realize it's Bakura. For once, he's actually around… I look up as I hear him crossing the den, and despite my tears, I begin to smile, but my grin halts and vanishes in milliseconds.

There are dark smudges from lack of sleep underneath his angry, bloodshot eyes. His hair is greatly matted and wet for some reason. His clothes are greatly wrinkled and damp, and there's a noticeable stain of blood on his t-shirt that wasn't there when he left. His belt was only slid through two of the belt loops, and merely pulled about his thin waist otherwise; the buckle was fastened, but fitted against his right hip instead of at his middle. Drops of blood stained his dark, tight jeans, and there was a bloodied bandage tied about his right hand.

I only stare, my vision still slightly blurred by my now non-existent tears.

"What are you staring at?" Bakura snarls as he storms across the living room, making his way over to the couch before me, placing his bandaged hands on his hips. I notice a sickening splotch of blood on the bandage as he moves his hands. "And you were crying… Weren't you?"

I swallow hard as I stare into Bakura's eyes. I can smell alcohol and cigarettes on him, and my nose wrinkles slightly with disgust. But I don't answer the questions he's thrown before me.

"Don't _ignore me_!" Bakura suddenly explodes as he lunges, grabbing a handful of my hair in his clawed, bandaged hand. He yanks hard, jerking my head up, and I barely contain my whimper of pain.

"B-Bakura, stop it!" I try to pull away, but his fingers only tighten upon the locks of my hair, and I let out a hoarse cry as he pulls again. I know he's had too many drinks. I can smell it on him, and he's never this short-tempered…

Suddenly he releases me, and I feel relief deep in my veins, but the look inside of his narrowed, bloodshot eyes is bothering me greatly, and so is that bloody bandage he has wrapped about his hand…

For a long moment, we just stay in place, staring into each other's eyes, before I decide to wade into deep water to break the silence between us. "Bakura… What happened to you? Y-You're injured…"

He snorts, and I can tell the alcohol in his system has loosened his tongue slightly, for he strangely replies. "'Just a fight."

_Over what? And how could a little fight be enough to make your hand bleed so badly? _I open my mouth to ask more, but he cuts me off.

"Make me something to eat, Ryou. I'm hungry." With that he turns on his heel and begins to head towards the leather recliner nearby, not even looking at me as he sits down, unlacing his boots.

An angry bubble has swelled in my chest, and I bristle up. Without realizing what I was doing, I snarl, "There's a whole cake in the kitchen. Go eat some of that. Otherwise, you're on your-"

"Wait. Why is there a freaking cake in our house?" he growls, eyes narrowing. "You _know _you're not allowed-"

"Heh, apparently you forgot about me again." I smile bitterly, tears threatening to spill over from my eyes as pain and misery eats away at my heart, in knowledge that not even the other half of my soul can remember, or that he doesn't even care enough. "Today's my birthday."

I don't give him enough time to recover, or to say anything. Tears are spilling from my eyes again, and I quickly get up from the sofa, arms wrapped about my stomach as I choke upon a sob. I flee the room, running up the stairs as fast as I can go, tears streaming from my eyes.

I head into the safe haven of my room, slamming the door and leaning my head against it, before my knees go weak and I collapse onto my rear, sobbing.

It takes a few minutes before I find strength to move. Slowly, I get onto my knees, not even bothering to stand, and crawl over to my bed, leaning against the support rails as I stuff a hand underneath the bed.

I pull out a small bundle, wrapped in plain red paper and tied with a big black ribbon. Tears of pain and heartbrokenness trail down my face as I read the tag over and over again. _To Bakura. From your light._

I can hear him coming up the stairs now, and I sob harder. I don't want to see him right now, I don't want to look at him, I don't want to hear his voice-

The door creaks slightly as it opens, and I hear him, "…Ryou?"

More tears burst from my eyes, and I lower my head, for once wishing he would actually go away. For once I didn't wish to see him. And for once, he actually used my name, and I didn't want to hear him say it…

"Ryou… I…" he trailed off, and I could hear him approaching me. His boots clunk against the floor, and I can smell the haze of cigarettes and alcohol coming closer to me.

He crouches down next to me, and I cringe as he places his bandaged palm on my knee, "Ryou, I-"

"Get away from me," I growl hoarsely, not even looking up. "Just get out of here and leave me alone like you always do. You don't care. I spend my days all alone in misery while you go off clubbing and getting drunk. I hope you're happy."

I thrust the small package out at him, holding it in one hand, and out of the corner of my eye, I see his own orbs widen a little. I don't look at him as I speak, my grip tight on the parcel, "And take this with you. I don't want to see it ever again."

"…What is it?" he plays back quietly, but he takes it out of my outstretched hand nonetheless.

"Your birthday present." My voice hardens a little. "You don't know when your birthday is, so I thought we could share one. So I got you a little something, because unlike you, I actually care about other people, no matter how much they hurt me." I glare up at him, a little surprised to see his face holding onto that of shock. "Now get out of my room. I hope you're happy with yourself."

I'm surprised to see a sliver of guilt coming out onto his face. His eyes fall onto the gift he's still holding, and slowly, he stands up, eyes meeting mine for only a moment before he leaves and slips out into the hall.

Now alone, I feel my chin tremble before I implode, tears escaping in an untamable flow, my entire body shaking as I hiccup and choke on my tears.

I just wish that he would actually care about someone other than himself.

* * *

Chapter 1: End.

A/N: Yeah, angsty, I know, but don't worry, it'll get happier...eventually! Anyway, and tell me what you guys think! I haven't done first-person POV in a _long _time, and I know I'm kind of etchy on it, but I'll practice it some more. Anyway, review please!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Gah, this update took nearly a month! -bow- I'm sorry! D: I've had a lot on my plate lately, so I apologize for the lateness! However, this fic is now going to have three chapters, yay! Also, I decided to use Bakura's POV this time, so we get to see his side of the story. :) **Note: **This chapter is told from Bakura's point of view.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh.

* * *

I stare blankly at the little wrapped parcel in my angular hands as I make my way down the hall, in the opposite direction of Ryou's room.

I snort at the thought of him and his tears, his angry words. What was bugging him so much, anyway? He never seemed lonely before, and all of a sudden he screams at me, saying how I'm never around for him? Sure, I go out by myself a lot, but it's for reasons Ryou wouldn't be able to comprehend.

He acts like it's a crime. It's not like I've been doing anything out of the ordinary… I merely drown myself in alcohol, no big deal. It's not like I've been sleeping with anyone or getting high or anything… Just like everyone else, I sit at the bar with my backs to the world and my shoulders hunched forward, musing over my own reflections…

But I hate doing that, because I feel worthless, knowing that the only time I actually feel secure, understood, or even loved, is when I go to that bar to drink myself stupid. Sometimes I lose myself completely and spend the night there, renting a room, and occasionally, it gets so bad I stay there for days on top of days… Secretly debating, wondering…

When I come home I feel like crap, my eyes itchy, my limbs heavy and aching, with what seems like the worst hangover. I always smell like the bar, as well; a disgusting scent of alcohol and cigarettes and sweat of other people.

My gaze falls back onto the little gift in my hands again, and it feels a whole lot heavier in my hands than I know it is. But if Ryou hated me so much, why bother to get me a present? Why bother to even strive to make a birth date for me, when I can't even remember it myself?

I find it sickening that he even bothers to care about me at all. I'm not supposed to have anyone at all; I'm a demon, a thief, a meager spirit who managed to regain a body, a shattered child inside a man's body…

My eyes once more settle on the little gift in my hands, and inside of my veins, I feel a little rush of an emotion I can't name. Every time I look at it I get that same feeling that I can't explain…

I decide not to open the gift, whatever it is. Instead, I make my way into the little kitchenette, setting the small object down on the counter. I spot the cake Ryou was talking about, and I make my way over to the kitchen table to get a closer look at it.

I could tell it was homemade, for Ryou always baked things like this. However, I limit Ryou when it came to any type of junk food; I wanted to keep him the same way, keep his structure in the same standards… And a cake such as this would surely ruin it.

But now that I think about it, I guess it's a bit beautiful, in its own type of way. It's covered with a perfect, yet thick white frosting evenly covering the surface. Little colorful candles break the surface, apparently the number of them meaning something.

However, I've never had a birthday cake before; sure, I've seen them and occasionally ate pieces of the ones Ryou made, but never in my life have I had one dedicated to myself, so the candles are just a big mystery to me.

I scowl down at them in a struggle to count the little sticks of wax that have yet to be lit. I get up to twelve, but I can't go any higher. I rack my brain in an attempt to recall the numbers, but I draw nothing but a blank. There's words written on the cake, too, but I don't understand them.

I never learned how to count, read, or write… I had to learn most of it by memory. And it angers me when I see Ryou working on his homework, or reading one of those stupid books he's always carrying around; why doesn't he bother to try to teach me? Does he find me too stupid to learn?

I snarl, slamming my palms down on the table as I leap to my feet, but I stop to wince at the pain that explodes in my right hand.

I look down at my hand, seeing the bandages becoming stained bright red, and I scowl. I had totally forgotten about my wound until now; but by the looks of it, the bandage needs to be changed.

I sigh in irritation as I drag myself out of the kitchen, leaving the gift Ryou had just forced at me on the counter. I make my way into the bathroom, and close the door silently behind myself. I can hear Ryou's weak cries through the paper-thin walls, and I roll my eyes in an agitated way. _I_ should be the one crying, not him. He acts like his life is so complicated, and yet, mine was worse, but do you see me groveling over it?

I sigh in irritation at Ryou's soft sobs and whimpers, and I struggle to ignore them. I turn to the mirror as I strip myself down until I reach my black boxers, standing still to look at my reflection.

I look horrible. Scars from blades line my torso, staining my skin with an unnatural color. There are cuts and bruises everywhere; my thighs, my stomach, my hips, my arms… However, only some of the cuts littering my arms were inflicted by someone else; the remaining ones were self-inflicted. Bruises line my ribs, which throb and are sticking out quite a bit from my lack of eating. Other than that, my once muscled stomach is starting to cave inward, but I strangely don't care. I haven't had an appetite in weeks.

That's one lie I've been telling Ryou nonstop. I come home and tell him to cook for me, that I'm hungry, when I'm really not. He makes me whatever I desire, and I eat it just because he cooked it. If he didn't, I would eat nothing at all. I'm just not hungry that much anymore. At least Ryou doesn't know about this…

My gaze settles on my injured hand, and I untie the dirty, bloodied bandage from it, and let it fall to the tiled flooring beneath me. I stare down at the large hole in my hand, still bleeding, due to me reopening it when I slammed my fists down. Blood dribbles down my forearm, and I just scowl at the line of crimson for a moment, before lifting my arm and absently licking the stream of blood off my arm.

The hole in the palm of my hand isn't that large, but it goes through my hand completely. I can see out the other side of it to the tiled floor beneath me. I shiver; an uncommon thing for me.

My knees suddenly weaken, and I grope for the counter, holding on to steady myself. The memory is clear in my brain, and I shudder again. I feel light-headed from my blood loss, and I feel slivers of fear in my stomach as I look down at my hand again, which is shaking.

I swallow, struggling to choke down a lump that has formed in my throat. I haven't told Ryou anything but lies about my hand. He asked me what happened, I told him it was just a little fight. He didn't question the blood, because I didn't allow him to.

I close my eyes as I sink to the floor, resting against the cabinets, my head spinning. I'm somewhat afraid to tell Ryou the truth about that fight and what my injuries truly are. I don't know why I fear breaking the truth to him… Is it because I think he'll hate me? That he'll find me weak? Find me stupid and take advantage of me? Or is it because I'm fearful of having people this close to me, wanting to help? Do I feel trapped by Ryou striving to help me?

Suddenly, I hear a gasp, and my eyes snap open, my head jerking into that of an upright position. Through my slightly bleary vision, I can see Ryou in the doorway, hands clasped about his mouth, his tear-filled, red-rimmed eyes enormous in size. What's strange is that I never even heard him approach or come into the room…

His eyes are starting to burn a hole through me, and I tear my eyes away as I pick up my shirt and jeans and my belt with my left hand, for the fingers of my right no longer move. I start to stand up, blood dripping from my palm and onto the floor, refusing to look Ryou in the eye.

"B-Bakura?" Ryou says my name softly, in that little voice he uses when he's scared or nervous. He lowers his hands, but his eyes remain as big as dinner plates as he stares at me.

I struggle to ignore him. My throat feels tight, and I feel a fluttering in my stomach. Blood rolls down my fingertips and onto the floor, and my head spins as this occurs. I know that I've lost too much blood, and now I'm struggling not to faint… After all, the wound may not be too big, but I lost so much blood when the knife punctured completely through my hand…

"B-Bakura, I thought…" Ryou takes a tentative step towards me. I notice that his hands are trembling at his sides. "I thought you said you got into just a little fight? T-This…"

Every time he steps forward, I move back. My bare legs tremble under me as they struggle to support my weight, and my head spins uncontrollably as more blood rolls out from the gaping hole in the palm of my hand. My vision wobbles slightly, and I grope wildly for the counter to hold myself up. "G-Get away from me," I whisper hoarsely, my voice coming out so much weaker than I had hoped.

But now Ryou has me backed into the corner of the bathroom, and my entire body shakes wildly, my uninjured hand curled about the countertop for dear life. I squeeze my eyes shut as he comes even closer.

I gasp as I feel fingers against my skin. My eyes flash open, vision wobbling as I struggle to see straight. Ryou is mere inches away, keeping me in the corner, his skinny, perfect fingers touching my showing ribs. I tremble under his touch for a quick moment before I jerk back unconsciously, my severely injured hand pressing against the wall in a struggle to support myself, leaving a bloody smear in the process, my other one still gripping the counter.

"Bakura…" Ryou tries to come closer. "What's happened to you?"

It's a question I don't even know the answer to. What _did _happen to me? I can't even remember when this started, how it began, what lead to this… I can barely remember the last time I ate, the last time I got a full night's sleep, the last time I could actually get through an evening without drowning myself in alcohol…

I choke at the sudden lump lodged in my throat, and a strange wetness is forming in the back of my eyes. I struggle to hold it in, for I realize it as tears. Tears are for the weak, and it's against the code I set for myself to shed any…

I gasp, weakly pushing myself further into the corner as Ryou suddenly grabs my injured hand in his own. He pulls it into his line of vision, staring down at my wound with a concerned scowl upon his features.

A few seconds later, his worried chocolate eyes flick back up to me, and his scowl deepens. "Who did this to you?"

I swallow thickly, attempting to think straight. I don't know if I should tell him the truth, whether or not I should just build up more lies… But finally, I choke down my pride along with the lump that has come back into my throat, and answer softly, "The guys I typically fight with."

"Who? Why?" The questions are coming out of Ryou's mouth faster than I can think. "Why do you always get into fights with them?"

I close my eyes, desperately trying to stay on my feet, struggling to hold on and not to slip into a faint, "They're just a posse up at the bar I always go to… But we never get along. And I always fight them because they make fun of you."

I ease my eyes open to see Ryou's reaction, and I internally grimace. His eyes are even wider, and he's frozen, rooted to the floor as he stares at me. Finally, his voice comes out in that same small one, "What?"

I open my mouth to reply, but my legs refuse to support me any longer. My hand slips from the wall, and I hear Ryou gasp, feeling his fingers release my injured hand. I collapse to the floor in a heap, seeing a large splatter of blood on the floor just before I fall into the black.

* * *

I force my eyes open, despite the pain as I do so. As the world comes back, I find myself staring up at the ceiling fan, which spins in an endless circle above me. I turn my head, my brain slowly taking in my surroundings. I suddenly come to the realization that I'm in the living room.

A gasp emits from my throat as I sit bolt upright, nausea crashing over me in an instant at my sharp movements. My head is throbbing, my entire body aches dully, and my heart feels like it's stuck in the pits of my stomach, which is churning uneasily.

I pour over my own thoughts for a moment, before the thought of my hand hits me. I look down sharply, scowling when I notice a bandage tied about my right hand, held down with medical tape. A nasty splotch of blood is eating through the bandages, and this makes me wonder some things… How long was I out of it, and why did Ryou bother to clean and help me with my wound?

Not just that, but I notice a few other things are different as well. Earlier, I was in nothing but my boxers, but now, I'm clad in a baggy black t-shirt and a pair of shorts. Why did Ryou dress me?

Suddenly, I hear some footsteps. I turn my head towards the sound, and I find Ryou exiting the kitchen. Ryou frowns as he notices me staring, "You're awake?"

I nod mutely, feeling my eyebrows rise when Ryou suddenly sits down beside me on the sofa. Ryou doesn't hesitate to speak, "You haven't been eating." It was a statement, not a question. "Why?"

He's being far more straightforward than he typically is, and this bugs me. But I don't beat around the bush, merely responding in a low but somewhat gruff voice, "I'm not hungry."

"Are you just skipping out, or do you really not have an appetite?"

I lift my gaze to stare into his eyes, and I answer him truthfully, "I'm never hungry anymore, Ryou. I haven't had an appetite in weeks."

"Bakura," Ryou's voice is stern as he says my name, but I strangely don't react to his tone. "I don't think you realize what's going on-"

"I do. You may think I don't, but I do realize what I've been doing to myself." My undamaged hand curls into a fist as I speak, and it suddenly feels like a bubble has inflated inside of my chest, filled with anger. My voice hardens, rapidly increasing in volume, "Besides, why does it matter to you?! I don't care, and neither do you! I drink excessively, I starve myself, I get into a fistfight almost every day, I get injured, but I don't _care_, Ryou! Nothing _matters _to me anymore!"

I'm screaming now, my eyes slamming shut as I bellow at him at the top of my lungs, "You act like your life is so difficult, crying over the stupidest things, Ryou! I'm not around or that you don't have any friends, how _great! _You act like your life is so _hard_, but what do you see when you look at _me?_ You think I'm all right?! That I hate you or that I'm perfectly happy?! Sane, or insane?! A liar, a deceiver?!" I choke, my voice cracking. "You don't _know _me, Ryou, so quit _judging _me!"

I force my eyes open, my chest heaving. That same wetness is in the back of my eyes, and I struggle to hold the tears in. Ryou's eyes are huge, and suddenly, they fill with tears. I cannot tell if they are ones of anger, or of sadness… But he doesn't speak. He just stares at me as tears spill over.

"You're the one who hates _me." _I swallow thickly, fearful when I feel the tears pushing closer to the surface. "I protect you. Those men at the bar make fun of you, threaten to hurt you, target you… So I fight them. I fight to keep you safe, out of trouble, out of harm's way… And what do I get for that? I get stabbed in the back, badmouthed whenever someone has the chance. I'm hated, put down…" A sad smile finally comes over my lips. It was the first time in weeks my lips left their downward position. "No matter what I do, it's never good enough."

Ryou is just staring, open-mouthed. I don't give a chance for the words to sink in, however; I throw the blanket to the side, getting to my feet. I'm shaking all over, and I feel the tears, threatening to break through. It feels like a dam is about to break, and I choke on my last words, "No matter what I do, it's never good enough for you."

As soon as the sentence leaves my mouth, I run. I run as fast as I possibly can, my breath leaving in ragged heaves. The wall collapses inside of me, and tears suddenly burst from my eyes. I choke, the substance blurring my vision. I struggle to keep going, and I pass the bathroom, rushing into my bedroom.

I slam the door shut, locking it. With little rivers of tears running down my face, I take a look around my room. Horror movie and gaming posters cover the black walls, my bed still unmade, CDs, clothes, and video games cast all over the floor. Empty soda and energy drink cans line the top of my dresser, but there's not a crumb of food to be seen.

I sigh, wiping the tears away. Shame floods my veins at the thought that I had started crying. My heart feels strangely even heavier than it did earlier…

I cross the room and head over to my bed, and collapse onto the mattress, ripping the medical tape away with my teeth, and the bandage then proceeds to unravel. I'm left staring down at the disgusting hole in my hand, and I grimace.

My head jerks up as I hear the handle of my door rattling; I know Ryou is attempting to pick the lock, and it sounds like he's succeeding. My heart falls when the door pops open a few seconds later, and Ryou pokes his head into the room, frowning deeply. "Bakura…"

I avert my gaze, staring down at my hand. My voice comes out in a low whisper, like that of a tiny blowing of the wind, "Go away…"

"Bakura, I…" Ryou sounds like he doesn't know what to do. He trails off, but I hear him coming closer.

I don't look up, but I feel more weight settle on the mattress, so I know he has seated himself next to me. I resist the urge to get up, to scream at him again…

"Bakura, I'm sorry…" He touches my arm, and I jerk away as if his touch was poisonous to me.

"No, you're not." My voice is low and cold, possibly even hurt. But it's a mere echo, for I feel hollow inside. "You don't care. You never would've found out if I hadn't broke down like that. You could care less about me, Ryou. You don't understand me. You sit here by yourself during the evenings, thinking you're so terribly lonely… While I sit at a bar, drowning myself in alcohol, getting into fights for you, struggling to sleep at night… And when I do get to sleep, I dream of you, and they're nothing but nightmares. I come home to hear you cry and complain that I had forgotten you and that I didn't remember your birthday…

"But you have no idea what goes on inside of me. You don't know what I spend my nights thinking about or what I do… You merely label me. You never bother to see where I went, or to call to see if I'm all right. You merely think I'm out enjoying myself while you're sitting here so cold and alone… But what do you think I feel, Ryou? I don't eat, I don't sleep, I can't get through a night without drinking until I vomit… I have nothing but nightmares, and I get into nothing but fights with everyone I meet. You would never be able to comprehend what I feel. _Never_."

* * *

Chapter 2: End.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Bleh. This update took so long it's not even funny. But here's the final chapter, and I hope you find it less horrible than I do...

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh.

* * *

Bakura didn't give Ryou a chance to reply. That foreign wetness was returning again – those _tears _– and Bakura knew he couldn't let Ryou see him crying.

The near demon leapt up from the bed, not saying a word or giving a second glance as he sprinted out of the room.

"Bakura, wait!" Ryou called, standing up to give chase, but he decided not to. With a small sigh, he sat down upon the bed, before allowing himself to flop over onto his side on the mattress.

The dirty bandages were still crumpled across the sheets, and Ryou's perfect nose wrinkled slightly before he pushed them away. He rested his head against the mattress, closing his eyes, able to smell Bakura's scent, which laced the bed sheets. Ryou sighed. _I didn't even know he was hurting…_

Ryou bit his lip, remembering the ugly hole that ripped through Bakura's hand and how he had came home dripping wet, even though it hadn't been raining. And now that he thought about it, Bakura often came home with bruises, but…

Ryou's thoughts came to a halt as he shifted, feeling something wet touching the palm of his hand. He sat upright, blinking. There was a stain upon the sheets that he just noticed, and it looked like blood.

Ryou thought it had merely dripped from Bakura's wound, but as he pushed back the blankets, his eyes widened. Bloodstains were covering the sheets.

_O-Oh… _Ryou felt somewhat numb as he inspected the stains. They were obviously blood, but they didn't seem anywhere near fresh. They looked old and ground in, faded to an ugly rust color. _W… Was he hurt before? Is that where all this came from? Or… Did he do this to himself?_

-

Bakura was panting, legs against his chest with his head lowered upon the kneecaps. He had fled to his sanctuary: the lonely oak tree that sat in the backyard. It was huge, and it could support his weight without question. He often sat upon the structure when he was alone, mostly during the day when there was no one around at all. And he would've gone elsewhere, but he didn't like to go out in public anymore… Less he be attracted to the bar, or people seeing him in his current state…

He especially liked to sit outside on one of the high top tree limbs during the rain, because that was the one time he could actually feel free without having to go to the bar… He loved it when it rained. It was as if the sky was crying, actually allowing the drops to fall. Bakura often felt like they were one in the same, although the sky was not actually a living thing… But he felt the story behind his tears and the sky's rain connected them together in a bizarre way.

A chilly breeze was making goose bumps on his revealed arms and legs, and Bakura shivered in the cold. He tilted his head upwards, staring almost longingly towards the stars. The tears cascading down his face were merely ignored.

_I hate this. _Bakura bit his lip, struggling to hold the tears in. He buried his face into one hand, chin trembling as he desperately struggled to hold them back… But he failed to succeed.

"Stop it," he muttered to himself, roughly smacking himself across the face. "Stop crying, you wimp. _Stop!_"

He had grown accustomed to talking to himself. Ryou was always at school, and Bakura was either at home alone or hunched over at the bar with no one to talk to. The silence had driven him insane, so he often just spoke out loud to himself to break the quietness.

Bakura sniffled weakly, eyes falling to the wound going through his palm. It was still bleeding. He didn't know how much blood he had lost total, but it had obviously been far too much to be healthy, because he had fainted earlier.

He was shivering in the chilly night under the stars as he sat huddled on one of the tree's sturdy branches. He hugged his legs, the shorts and short-sleeved shirt not nearly enough due to the cold, late autumn winds.

His stomach gave a low growl, like it always did at night, and like usual, Bakura ignored it. He merely closed his eyes, resting his chin upon his knees. He knew he needed to eat; he had weighed himself earlier that morning. He was only losing more and more weight; he had dropped almost forty pounds already…

But he just didn't want to eat anymore. He didn't have the will, the energy… Sometimes he even threw what he ate back up; if he was lucky, he could keep it down. He hated it.

His bony hands brushed the bark as he pressed his uninjured palm against the trunk, staring out from between the multicolored leaves to stare back out at the sky again. He was wishing so badly that it would rain tonight…

Bakura jumped as he heard the back door of the place he barely ever called home anymore slam shut. He turned his head, craning his neck to stare through the thinning amount of leaves to stare at the steps that led from the back door and into the tiny backyard.

Ryou was standing on the cement steps, holding open the door to place a small bowl of food and water out for their family cat, which was busy snoozing on the corner of the patio, the little white form of the animal curled into a small ball.

Ryou then vanished back into the house.

Bakura let out a small breath of relief. He didn't really want to deal with Ryou right now… He didn't think he could handle it. He already felt like his walls were breaking down, and he didn't think he could handle another blow… It would be just too much…

However, the sound of a door slamming shut once more greeted Bakura's ears. The man turned to see if Ryou had came back into the backyard again, but he hadn't. _Did he just leave the house?_

Bakura's curiosity got the better of him. With slow, agonizing paces, he managed to climb his way down and completely out of the tree. He winced as his injured hand brushed the hard bark, sometimes slicing into his skin. He needed to clean the wound before it got infected…

He stumbled back up onto the patio and headed silently into the house. The back door led to the living room, where he now found himself. Bakura padded quietly through the den and into the foyer, to check the front table.

Ryou's set of house keys were missing.

_Then he did leave. _Bakura checked to see if the door was locked before drifting out of the foyer and back into the living room. _But where would he be going at this hour?_

He found himself walking into the bathroom, remembering that he needed to clean himself up. After dragging out the medical supplies, he took a seat on the white rug that sat before the bathtub before he began.

Cleaning it was easy, despite the horrible pain that came along with it. The hard part was bandaging it. He had to make sure the white wraps went along evenly, and as he pulled the bandages along his wound, he had to hold the spare end between his teeth to keep it from unraveling again. It was a long, tiring procedure, but he managed to finish the job.

Bakura managed to put the medical supplies back away, but with difficulty, his injured hand posing a great obstacle.

After putting all the supplies back, he gripped the bathtub as he forced himself onto his own two legs again. His knees trembled under him, and Bakura knew he had lost too much blood. _It won't be long before I faint again… _Bakura's breath was coming and going in ragged pants as he stumbled out of the bathroom and down the corridor back towards the living room. _I should just…go to sleep…_

He staggered into the den, stumbling over to the couch. He collapsed onto it in an instant, hissing with pain.

He would've gone to sleep in his own bedroom, but with his body so terribly weak, he didn't think he would've been able to make it…

It was only seconds before his eyes slid shut and he fell into an exhausted slumber.

* * *

Ryou slipped into the house silently the following afternoon, just coming back from spending the night at Malik's. He placed his keys on the table as usual and kicked off his shoes, trying to be as quiet as possible. After all, he didn't know if Bakura was actually in the house…

Clutching the cup of coffee he had gotten from Malik just before leaving, Ryou padded silently into the living room, about to head into the kitchen, but he stopped.

He could see a small lump upon the sofa, but it was barely visible, and Ryou found himself taking curious steps closer to see what it was.

Ryou halted, fingers loosening on his coffee cup, almost dropping it. _Bakura…_

The said man looked almost dead. He wasn't moving at all, his eyes shut, and Ryou could almost see through his eyelids. There were ugly smudges under those eyes, and it looked like the inky ringlets were spreading, growing darker and crawling to the very rim of Bakura's eyes.

Bakura was lying on his side, with absolutely no covering over his sleeping form. And with the man lying on his side, his shirt had ridden up, revealing Bakura's sides, which were obviously to thin to be healthy. Ryou could see the bones struggling to show… He was only wearing the pair of shorts and t-shirt that Ryou had dressed him in the almost two days ago… But Ryou didn't like what he could see due to the lack of clothing. Bakura's arms were thinner, and so were his thighs and legs. Ryou also noticed scars decorating the skin, most deep and healed but still marking up his flesh… They seemed too close to a pattern to be an accident…

There was blood soaking through the bandages laced about his hand, looking close to bleeding through. Bakura looked horribly pale, apparently too drained… Bones jutted out from a thin layer of skin, and Ryou was scared to see what lied beneath the baggy t-shirt about Bakura's body…_ And to think that shirt actually used to fit him perfectly…_

Ryou set the cup of dark liquid down on the coffee table, perfect white teeth nibbling softly on his lower lip. Ryou then collapsed onto his knees beside the couch, reaching out with a slender hand. Fingers hovered over Bakura's form, and Ryou swallowed. He was almost afraid to touch him…

With shaking fingertips, he brushed Bakura's bangs out of his eyes and to the side. Ryou swallowed as his eyes finally caught that of an ugly black bruise, the mark having been hiding under Bakura's bangs.

Ryou removed his hands, letting them drift down. He laced a few fingers about the cotton of the black shirt, lifting the bottom hem up as gently as he could.

Ryou felt a little pang as he was left staring at Bakura's ribs. He had seen them earlier, when walking in on Bakura, but it had still yet to sink in… Not only that, but with Ryou so close, he could make out even more scars, light and blending in only somewhat with his pale skin. Bruises lined his ribcage and the ridges of his stomach. There were even unhealed cuts…

_Then… He wasn't lying to me… He really does get into fights… _Ryou bit his lip as he dropped the fabric, letting it crumple over Bakura's figure. He leaned back on his haunches, his face just level with Bakura's own.

…_I wonder what he dreams about. _Ryou thought as he stared into the man's face. Even in slumber, it was still twisted and angry. It was as if the man was still prepared for anything, even in his sleep… _Maybe it's habit? Having to sleep alone in the middle of a desert where there was a price for your head was surely enough…_

Bakura had told him very little of his life back in Egypt… But Ryou had put the pieces together quite easily. It wasn't that complex to Ryou… After all, he figured out that Bakura had lost the only people he called family, having to live alone-

_Wait. _Ryou's eyes widened as his gaze fell back onto the man's face, which was tense. _Is… That why he says to protect me? Because he actually…_

It seemed impossible to Ryou. After all, Bakura cared about no one but himself… _Or is just an act? Does he really…care?_

Bakura's eyebrow suddenly twitched, and Ryou leapt back in alarm, rising swiftly to his feet, fearing that Bakura would awaken. He hurriedly snatched up his coffee cup, and hurried into the kitchen. _I guess I'll fix him something while I'm at it… Ra knows it's the only time he eats…_

It was a minute or so after Ryou had bolted out of the living room that Bakura's nearly translucent eyelids fluttered open. Nearly blank eyes were fixed on the white ceiling, before Bakura blinked tiredly. He lifted a heavy hand – his uninjured one at that – and buried it into his bangs. "Ngh…"

Everything ached. He hissed as his palm pressed against his forehead. He had forgotten about the bruise there…

He could smell something, similar to that of cooking meat. Bakura choked, bile swarming into his mouth. His stomach flopped uneasily at the scent of cooking food, and nausea washed over him in a large wave.

When it didn't stop, he clasped a hand over his mouth in an attempt to hold it all back. But he didn't succeed.

He leapt to his feet, despite the dizziness crashing over him, and bolted out of the room and into the bathroom, collapsing onto his knees before the toilet. He heaved for a mere moment, before bile rose back into his mouth, and he retched, abruptly throwing up.

He moaned weakly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Suddenly, he felt fingers bury into his mane of wild hair, and he turned, tears leaking uncontrollably from his eyes.

Crimson locked with that of chocolate, and Bakura swallowed, the sharp, disgusting taste of vomit strong in his mouth. "Ryou…"

Ryou collapsed onto his knees next to the man, "I'm so sorry…" Ryou brushed a lock of Bakura's snowy hair from his empty, wine-colored eyes. "I'm so _sorry…"_

"You act like it's your fault," Bakura whispered, not meeting the boy's gaze. "You didn't do this; I did. I'm the one who decides what to do with myself, and this is what I chose, Ryou. You can't change that. You can keep telling yourself you were the one who did it, but you weren't…"

"But… You said you were protecting me," Ryou whispered tearfully, eyes red-rimmed but yet dry. "If you weren't struggling to keep me safe, then…"

"I chose to protect you because I don't want you to end up like me, Ryou. I wouldn't be able to handle that. And staying away from home… It was so I didn't contaminate you. It was for the best, even with all the drama-"

"You don't deserve that!" Ryou shouted then, tears glittering in confused eyes. "You don't deserve to be beaten down like that and be separated! You… You're still a person-"

"No, I'm not." Bakura leaned calmly back, away from the other half of his soul, before rising to his feet. "I'm too disgusting to be human."

"Bakura…" Ryou rose as well, hoping to stop Bakura, but the man merely walked out of the bathroom, not even looking back.

Bakura hurried out of the bathroom. His chest hurt for some reason…

He noticed a rather large plate sitting on the table in the living room, consisting of a mixture of rice and pieces of steak Ryou had apparently cooked for him. But even the sight of the food was making him feel sick all over again…

He ran up the stairs and into his room, slamming the door shut. He locked it, and dragged the chair out from under his desk, wedging the chair's top under the doorknob so that the door couldn't be opened.

Then, he made his way over to his bed, and collapsed onto it. He let out a long, tired sigh, tears clinging to dark eyelashes, before he near shamefully buried his face in the pillow.

He managed to compose himself a moment or so later, and he raised himself from the depths of the pillow. He sniffed as he sat up, and sat cross-legged on the bed for a long moment, before he noticed something.

The covers of his bed had been ripped back, revealing many bloodstains etched into the sheets.

Bakura could almost feel the color drain from his face right then. Ryou knew about the cutting now, too. _Why won't he just mind his own business?_

Biting his lip, hard, he cast his eyes over his room, back over the pale carpet and dark coverlet on his bed, and the dark walls spruced up by his collection of posters, the wood of his desk not even visible from the mass amount of junk lying upon it. His diary remained unnoticed beneath the collection of jackets and long coats, an ancient video game console lying under CDs and notebooks. A stack of photographs were messily strewn over the middle of the desk, which instantly caught Bakura's eye.

The man got up and crossed the room, collecting the photographs into a stack, and held them in his hands, shuffling through them. Nearly every one was either of the two blondes, or him with one of them. _Malik… Marik…_

He used to be great friends with Malik, but ever since all the drama with Ryou started, everything fell apart. Sometimes Marik didn't even talk to him anymore. But in the photographs, everyone just seemed so happy… _Even me._

With the meager flick of his wrist, Bakura snapped the photos back into a stack before placing them on the wooden desk. But instead of walking away, the man stooped down, before opening the last drawer of his desk. He rummaged through piles of t-shirts and darkwashed jeans, before reaching to the bottom. As he pulled out his hand, he not only held a metallic lighter, but also a small switchblade and a pack of cigarettes.

He then closed the drawer and made his way back towards the door, removing the chair and slipped into the hall to dispose of the items. _Hard to believe Malik made me take the lighter and the smokes just so Marik couldn't have them…_

The man slipped quietly down the hall and crept down the stairs to throw the materials in his arms away in the main trash chute. He just hoped Ryou wouldn't notice…

He padded through the living room quietly and into the kitchen, dumping the materials in his arms into the trash. The instant he did so, however, it felt like something was just removed from him, like a weight that had been resting upon his shoulder blades.

He left the kitchen then, and eyed the plate still sitting on the living room table. He sighed quietly, rolling his eyes in exasperation. He quietly made his way over to the couch and sat down, staring at the food for a long moment.

Then, he summed up his courage and raked up a forkful of the mixture before forcing himself to eat it.

His stomach lurched at the sudden intake, like a chain reaction. Bakura nearly dropped the fork, hoping he wouldn't throw up again. However, after a few agonizing minutes of sitting still, deepening his breathing, his stomach calmed.

He let out a breath of relief, and continued the process.

He was only able to stomach a few bites, however, before he began to feel ill, so he stopped. He then flopped down on the couch on his side, closing his crimson eyes so he wouldn't have to see the world.

_I want to start over with him. _Bakura raised one hand, dragging it through his bangs. _I've really hurt him._

Then, it struck Bakura. The previous few arguments were fresh in his brain now, and he then realized it. He had yet to get something for Ryou for his birthday, and the gift Ryou had given him was still unopened.

He sat up, and nearly bolted into the kitchen. The plain but amazing gift was still sitting on the counter, but the cake wasn't. Bakura raced over, and grabbed the gift in his hands. With agile movements, he ripped the paper off in one swift move, crumpling it one fist. He was left staring at a box, and he quickly took off the lid.

His breath halted in his throat, and his fingers shook. He reached for the little slip of white paper, and picked it up, unfolding it, scanning it with his eyes. _'I know how much you miss taking pictures of them.'_

Bakura shakily lifted the camera from the box, swallowing thickly. He felt guilty. The camera seemed so expensive, and yet… Then, it struck him.

Hefting the camera in one hand, he dug through the drawers, extracting a thin, black marker that could easily be erased. Then, he rushed into the bathroom, relieved Ryou had gone.

With his thoughts smudging together, he climbed into the standup shower, ripping the cap from the marker, and without the slightest hesitation, began to write on the white walls of the shower.

After he was done, he replaced the cap and threw the marker out, taking the camera up into his hands instead. He lifted it as high as he could, not only to capture the writing, but also himself.

There was a flash at that moment, and Bakura blinked as a small card was spat from the camera. He held it against the light for a long moment, before a tiny smile came over his lips.

He leapt from the shower and out of the bathroom, taking quickly to the stairs. He didn't stop until he reached Ryou's room. He noticed Ryou sitting quietly on his bed, apparently spacing out.

Quietly, Bakura entered. However, Ryou quickly snapped out of his musings, and eyed Bakura. His mouth instantly opened to say something, but Bakura cut him short, "Don't. I have something for you instead."

Ryou blinked in confusion as Bakura suddenly placed a white card in his hand. The picture was finally coming clear into focus. But Bakura didn't stick around for it; instead, he just smiled, and left.

Ryou blinked, before focusing back on the card he held in his hand. The picture was finally clear. To his surprise, it looked like Bakura was standing in what seemed to be their shower, but what caught his eye was the writing on the walls behind him.

'_I know I'm stupid, I know I hurt you. At least I do now. And it wasn't right, and now here I am, coming to you for help. Like always. I want to start over, but if you don't wish to, then don't worry yourself. I just wanted to say I'm sorry.'_

Ryou couldn't help but sigh. _I forgive you, but… It's going to take time for me to trust you again. But that doesn't mean I won't treat you different. After all…you're still a part of me._

_I'm just glad you're trying to change yourself._

* * *

Chapter 3: End.

A/N: THE END.

Finally. And I'm sorry for another crappy ending. I just didn't really know how else to wrap it all up, and I didn't really want to keep dragging the story out, if you know what I mean. So...yeah. Love you guys, and I hope to hear from you again!


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